Mountains and Valleys
by The-7th-Star
Summary: They're a mismatched pair, but they make it work. (Gajevy drabbles and one shots.)
1. Arpeggio

He knew something was up when she didn't have her notebook. It wasn't like Gajeel _watched_ her, specifically, but she had a reputation throughout the school of never leaving the dorms without it. She wasn't the only one who carried pens or the like around by far. In a school full of musicians, you had to write when the inspiration hit you, no matter when or where.

Levy McGarden, however, took it to the extreme. He was sure she slept with her sheet music and lyric books under her pillow, but that couldn't be the reason they were bothering her. There were many more apparent, reasons, easier reasons, simpler, less creative reasons to do that, like her height, her hair color, and her tendency to hand in homework on time or early. There were also reasons to be jealous of her, like the fact that she sang and played piano and violin, and she was great at all of them. Or the fact that she still managed to ace all her tests, musical and otherwise.

But even so, the first time he walked in on her crawling on hands and knees, gathering scattered music sheets, though he wasn't surprised, he found himself almost disappointed. Gajeel's general view of the human species was pessimistic to say the least, but he thought the people at this school were better than that.

He ran a hand through his hair, closing his eyes irritably. He wasn't fond of people who couldn't defend himself, but leaving her there would make him no better then the ones who had dumped her stuff in the first place. He dropped his hands to his sides, before offering, with a sigh, "you want help with that?" He wasn't a jerk, even if he did look the part a little too well.

He expected her to peer up at him, all teary eyed, and agree, maybe even beg him, but Gajeel was afforded barely any notice. She simply shrugged nonchalantly. "I'll be done in a minute." The only part if her he could see was her mess of blue hair, natural he had been told, but her posture wasn't of someone who looked like they'd cave at any moment. She seemed resigned to the fact. But not particularly bothered. "You can have the piano if you'd like," she added after a few moments. "I can do violin somewhere else."

"Nah." He sat down in a chair with a creak, watching her with his chin balanced on his palm. Perhaps it was better that she hadn't fought back. It might have encouraged them, and she was a small one. Didn't look like she could stand a punch. "I mainly play cello anyways, and bass."

"I'd love to hear you play." Levy stood up, dusting off her skirts, rearranging the papers in her hands in a matter-of-fact way, before placing them on the piano. She pulled pit the bench with her foot, and sat down on it none too neatly, before launching into a series if scales, chords, and arpeggios so quickly her fingers nearly blurred. "You're welcome to stay," she added as if on an afterthought, but didn't look up from where her eyes were glued to the keys.

So he did.

The next day, Gajeel came to the room McGarden always practiced in early, shooting a glare at the first few students who tried to enter. He occupied himself by tuning his preferred instrument by ear, and then checking it against the piano to see how close he got. She came in fifteen minutes later, looking cautious at the noise. Peeking in, her face lit up when she caught sight of who he was, and she strolled in happily, her music sheets tucked under her arm, along with _the_ notebook.

"Who'd you think I was?" Gajeel found himself asking curiously, as she sat down on the piano bench backwards to watch him. She shrugged nonchalantly.

"Could've been anyone. Sting, Minerva, the group, you know." She clasped her hands expectedly, eyes glued on him. "So, are you going to play?"

He gave an exaggerated sigh, more out of principal than anything else, before letting out a song he had been working on. She was a good audience, attentive but silent, appreciative but fair, encouraging but not pressuring. She clapped at the proper parts, i.e. the end, and though not quick to give criticisms, she supplied them when he asked. They did scales together, afterwards, and arpeggios.

And if he scared off a few student who had come by the practice room to torment his practice partner, who was going to say anything?

* * *

Request: Gajevy, Gajeel helps Levy with bullies.


	2. Blind

She didn't want to go. At all, in fact, but Lucy was pushing her something awful and what was the worst thing that could happen?

In retrospect, that was anything but true.

"Do I really have to?" Levy asked, as Lucy put the final touches on her makeup. The blonde was all for it, it was her idea after all, and had insisted Levy get ready in her apartment.

"Hold still," Lucy scolded, as she worked on the mascara. Levy wanted to groan, but that would only elicit further complaints from her best friend and make this take that much longer. "And yes, you have to go. You can't be single for the rest of your life."

"I don't want to be," Levy argued. "But I still don't want to go out with a stranger. Don't you remember how the last blind date you sent me on ended out?"

Lucy scoffed. "I got him through Cana." Yet she had still agreed, and Levy had ended up footing the bill. "This one I met personally."

That meant nothing to Levy, but she sighed and let Lucy fuss over her hair. She just wanted this to be over. The last thing she wanted to do was go on a date. Her shoulders slumped, and Lucy scolded her, telling her to sit up straight. Very few things survived from Lucy's life as an heiress, but thing for good posture had managed to pull through despite the rough and rowdy manner of Fairy Tail .

"I really don't want to-"

"I really don't care," Lucy interrupted. A sly grin made its way across her pretty face. She had plan, Levy was sure. She groaned. "Trust me, on this one," Lucy insisted.

"I don't know why I am." She felt a prod in the back from Lucy and stood up, shifting momentarily on her heels as she adjusted to them. Opening the door, she gave a final wistful glance at Lucy's couch, before Lucy shooed her out of the house. The door shut behind her with a thud.

"Where were we supposed to meet up?" Levy closed her eyes trying to remember. Next to the bridge, if she recalled correctly. The one that went over the river that Lucy was always walking by. Levy got moving with a sigh, her heels clicking in the night, blending in with the sounds of others foolish enough to be forced out this late.

She recognized his footsteps before she even saw him. Levy turned around, with a guilty feeling in the pit of her stomach as she looked up, up, _up_ at where Gajeel was staring down at her.

"Whatch'ya doing out this late?" he asked. Levy shifted uncomfortably. He knew, she was certain, from the way she was dressed if nothing else.

"Date," Levy got out. "I've got a date."

He looked almost hurt. "With who?" he asked, like he didn't really want to know. She really didn't want to either, and sighed.

"Don't know. Lucy picked him out for me." She gave a rueful grin.

"Well, have fun." He made to leave, and Levy felt a fleeting sense of panic.

"Wait!" He turned around at her voice. "I… don't really want to go." She steeled herself. "You know what? I'm not going. Let me let Lucy know." Levy took out her phone.

His posture seemed to relax, just a little, and he watched her bemusedly. She looked up, satisfied. "So, want to get something to eat?"

Gajeel grinned. "Sure."

* * *

Request: Gajevy, blind date


	3. Click

As she flipped through their photo album, she remembered the first time she saw him.

.

.

.

She had been catching up on some reading in the park when the first raindrops fell and she had wondered just when the sky had turned grey. She had scrambled for shelter for her _and_ her book when she had seen him, standing stock still with one of those expensive looking cameras, snapping pictures of passersby. He wasn't moving.

He had a big black umbrella and a bigger, blacker dog that looked like it could eat her in one bite but was surprisingly calm. She didn't know why he stopped short, turned to look at him, just as he pressed the shutter button and she could hear the click from where she stood despite the thunder. The flash of the camera was brighter than any lightening.

She bolted.

.

.

.

Her second memory of him, surprisingly, was in her college campus, in freshman year, first day, and she had gotten lost. She was famous for a bad sense of direction amongst her friends, but she still didn't know how she had wound up in the section for the arts when she was looking for an English literature classroom. She remembered being irritated, but now she was glad, because otherwise she wouldn't have noticed the all-too-familiar shade of blue in one of the pictures hung up on the bulletin board, and when she looked closer she realized it _was_ her.

The day in the rain came rushing back to her, and she found herself angry. Who was he, to take a photo of her without her permission? She looked underneath, where the photographer's name was written in black type, a "Gajeel Redfox," and the title, "The Girl in the Storm."

There were footsteps behind her and she turned around.

"Oy, what are you looking at Short- oh." It was him, the photographer. "I didn't know you went here," he said awkwardly, his hand going for his hair in what she guessed was a nervous habit.

"I'm a freshman." Her answer was curt. "I'm looking for English Literature."

"Down that hall and make a right." He looked almost scared, like she was going to slap him or make him take the picture down. Which she couldn't, not legally anyways. The park was a public place. She noticed he was still wearing that camera, and she couldn't help but smile. He didn't look horrible.

"Oh, and Gajeel, right?" He nodded. "Try to think of a more creative title. Bye!" She turned around and walked off in the direction he had pointed her in and just as she turned the corner she thought she heard a click.

But she wasn't sure.

.

.

.

He was the one who sought her out the next time, a conscious choice unlike their previous run ins. His request was simple. They were doing a unit on contrasting people. He had to be one of them, as per the class's criteria. His cousin was sick with the flew.

"Your cousin?" she repeated.

"Yes," he repeated. "My cousin."

She was suspicious. Why her? His answer was as blunt as his request.

"You're short and cute and photogenic. I'm tall and I have piercings and a ponytail. It's pretty damn contrasting."

She admitted it was true, reluctantly, but agreed. She was already the subject of one of his photos, another wouldn't hurt. He had no friends to call upon anyways, and she felt bad sending him off to ask another stranger he hadn't exchanged two words with. "What do I do?"

"Just… is the park good? Wear whatever and I'll bring my dog. After school today."

"Umm… sure."

When they got there it was beyond awkward. She had literally worn whatever, a huge sweater and genes and he had come in the same ratty T-shirt as before. He introduced her to his dog. "His name's Lily." She cautiously offered her hand, palm down, for the dog to sniff, and he bumped his big nose against her in approval. She bent down to scratch him behind his ear, and heard a click.

"Let's get started then."

.

.

.

Years later she'd look at their photo albums, many books thick, filled with quality pictures, and she'd be thankful for the rain and that camera that she swore he loved more than her. Because without either, she'd never have their countless memories, and then where would she be?

* * *

Request: Gajevy, memories


	4. Listen

It always surprised people how close they were, and probably always would. Appearance wise, they were incompatible, him with his height and muscles and piercings, her with her blue bob and short stature and grin that could out shine the sun. But Gajeel had known Levy years before the accident that had claimed her hearing. He had stuck with her through it all, learnt sign language next to her and served as a translator between her and those not quite as accommodating. He had stuck with her throughout all the years it had taken them to raise the money for the surgery to get it fixed.

And it had taken them _years._

Neither of the two had the happiest background. Gajeel's dad had left him when he was seven, and it had taken a few days of wandering before his next door neighbor had taken him in. They were always tight on money. Levy's mom had died of cancer when the was three, and her father in a shooting at twelve. She had gone to live with her aunt, already struggling to put four kids in collage. She had never met her niece before, and was practically a complete stranger, who just happened to live next door to Lili's place.

There was no one to ask for money. So they had simply gotten jobs themselves.

Gajeel sat hunched on the stool beside the hospital bed. He wished it were bigger. Levy was breathing steadily, and would be waking up any minute according to the doctors. The operation had gone off with no hits, the implant in place. Though the amount of time she had been without hearing was longer than the doctors would have proffered, the signs were good.

Levy stirred in her sleep, and he could see where the machine plugged in. He noted where the surgeons had shaved of a few inches of hair for her surgery, her head swathed in bandages, and the shadow of her eye lashes as they fluttered. Her eyes opened.

_How do you feel?_ he signed to her. She blinked once or twice, as if clearing her mind, and gestured for him to repeat himself. _How are you feeling?_

She made a face. _Nauseous. Dizzy._ She touched her throat and stuck out her tongue.

_One month._ Gajeel grinned, and Levy gave a hazy-eyed thumbs up.

They were in college now, and though Levy was limited to teachers who used wrote an awful lot and classes Gajeel or one of her other sign language fluent friends were in, she was studious as ever. Despite her loss in hearing, Levy never lost her love for books, and had landed herself a scholarship with a paid dorm in the same university that Gajeel had managed to get into an honors program for craft in. There had been no time for romance, but they shared a dorm, of course.

Which made it much easier for Gajeel to check her bandages and the stitches, and make sure Levy was taking her painkillers at every meal. And that she was washing her head and the incision properly.

The doctor's appointment was a month later, and everything checked out just fine. The two waited with baited breath as the doctor plugged in the listening device, and flicked the switch on. Gajeel swallowed.

"Can you… can you hear me?"

Her face lit up, and she suddenly hugged him. "Yes!"

* * *

Request: Gajevy, "Can you here me?"


	5. Elope

They had wanted a small party, but you know. It was Fairy Tail.

They had celebrations at the drop of a hat. Cana found a new type of alcohol she liked? Buy enough for the entire guild. Lucy made her rent on time? Simply an excuse for cake and karaoke. Ten days since Natsu had broken something? A call for a celebration and an excuse to destroy a few tables. So now that the guild had a _real_ reason to celebrate, like hell they were letting them off the hook.

"I can't look," Levy said, eyes hidden in her arm and holding onto Gajeel's hand, trusting that he wouldn't let her run into any walls. They stood at the entrance of the guild hall, which had turned into a wedding planning boutique. At least, from Gajeel's description. Levy wasn't sure she wanted to see the chaos.

"It's… not that bad," Gajeel said uncertainly, and Levy risked a peek, before covering her eyes again with a moan. There were streamers everywhere, in every shade of gold and blue, including wrapped around a flustered Asuka, now ten. Wendy had gotten glitter in her hair and Lucy had gotten her hands on not one, not two, but at least a dozen different wedding dresses, which were all hung up quite nicely on the second floor banister. Natsu was making some effort to cook something, but, like often happened when he was excited, he had set in on flames it instead.

"Is that…" Levy looked again, squinting. "Oh, Mavis. I can't handle it."

The bridesmaids' dresses had somehow been painted a neon green instead of the soft cornflower blue they had been in the start, and were immersed in ice. Color coordinated flowers grew rampant around the guild, Lucy slapping them away from the dresses and shoes with bloody murder on her face. Droy had been distracted, losing control of the plants. Erza was elbow deep in cake batter and frosting, her hair pulled up but face smeared with sugar.

"That's a lot of booze," Gajeel said uncertainly. Cana stood on top of a tower of alcohol like the king of the hill, or rather the queen. She shot at people lazily when they got too close for her liking, using her high vantage point to her benefit. One of the newer members of the guild squeaked when her pants caught on fire, running outside, with a quick apology to Levy and Gajeel, for the well. The card mage cackled evilly on top of her hoard. Gajeel subtly turned Levy around. She groaned.

"We should have eloped."

* * *

Request: Gajevy, wedding AU


	6. Kitty

"I want a pet."

Levy looked up from her crossword puzzle, to where 6-year-old Xandra, the oldest of her children by two years, stood with her arms firmly crossed and a pout on her face. Behind her, her brother snorted.

"Don't be stupid. That's what Emma's for." He held up his baby sister, and, as if to prove his point, she let forth a truly magnificent gurgle before trying to eat Shale's finger. "No. Stop, Emma," he reprimanded gently. "Fingers aren't for eating."

Levy sighed, standing up and swiftly scooping up her two year old, saving both the boy and the baby from each other. "Shale, sweetie, Emma's not a pet." The baby cooed up at her, grasping her mother's locks in a slobbery hand. "Would you please be a dear and get me a napkin?"

Shale was a mommy's boy, but he couldn't resist saying that, "she drools as much as any puppy," as he got Levy a napkin. Despite Shale's best efforts, however, Xandra was not satisfied.

"I want a pet," she repeated firmly. "Layla has a pet. Why can't we?"

"Because Layla doesn't have a baby." Levy loved her daughter, but she didn't have time to take care of a high maintenance pet and a high maintenance baby. "We have Emma."

She heard a victorious hoot from the kitchen. "See, Xandra? Emma is a pet."

"No, Shale. Emma is a baby." She didn't have the energy to deal with this. "Why don't you ask your father when he gets home?"

"Ask me what?"

There was a chorus of 'Daddy's, Xandra was twirled around and Shane's hair was ruffled, before Gajeel scooped Emma out of Levy's arms and nailed a kiss on her cheek. Emma and Xandra giggled, though Shane made a face. Levy pushed Gajeel towards his eldest daughter before he could get carried away. "Ask me what?" Gajeel repeated. Emma walked up to her father with watery eyes and a frown.

"Daddy, I want a pet." He was going to cave, Levy realized with a sigh.

"But…" he was looking for an escape now. "We… have Emma!"

"That's what I said!"

"But I want a kitten!"

Levy sighed, sitting down and bouncing Emma on her knee. "If only they were all as easy as you," she told her youngest, brushing her baby hairs out of her face. Emma giggled.

* * *

Request: Gajevy, family


	7. Leap

She was awful small to be at flying age, even for an angel. Her feathered wings, tinted a light periwinkle, furled and unfolded repeatedly, her legs dangled off the side of the cliff. She was looking down, a shade too pale, and squeaked when the wind blew, gripping her arms tighter around herself.

Gajeel's flying day had come the year before, on the last fall, equinox, the day where angels and devils alike stood at the bottom of the cliffs of Etretat, while their children stood on top of them, ready to make that first hop, step, and jump towards flight. The younger children, not aged thirteen or older, wandered at the top, whispering encouraging words and distributing little shove to the twelve year olds who needed them. There were always some who did.

Gajeel sighed, seeing the other helpers pass over the silently shaking girl in favor of more hysterical children. He would have to take care of her himself, he noted, walking over there, careful not to spook her. She looked up when he came, eyes filled with a quiet panic that was more concerning than the loud tears from the devil three children over.

"You OK?" Gajeel asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets. She nodded once, absentmindedly, before the question really seemed to register, before shaking her head. "What's your name?"

"Levy." She repeated it a little more loudly. "Levy."

Gajeel sat down next to her, her right foot just brushing his left leg, dark wings unfolding to touch the tips of her light ones. "You scared?"

"N-no!" she said, blushing a deep scarlet. She huffed and crossed her arms, turning away. "Of course not!"

"Then why aren't you flyin?" She seemed to quail at this blatant logic, her bluff softening and she gave the cliff another nervous stare.

"I just…" Her voice dropped to a near whisper and Gajeel had to lean in to hear her. "…eights."

"Eights?" Gajeel repeated. He was fairly sure that wasn't what she had said.

"Heights!" she shrieked. "I don't like heights!"

He tried not to laugh. An angel, or a devil for that matter, afraid of heights? Because there was nothing different about them but their wing shape. She frowned, getting up. Gajeel turned.

"Where you going?"

"Home," she muttered. "I'm short enough that they won't notice if I try out next year."

"Whoa, whoa." Gajeel stood up, flapping his wings for balance, and grabbed her wrist. "Slow down. That ain't going to help you." She glanced back, lips drawn in a thin line. "You can't push it off. It'll just be worse next year."

She didn't seem convinced. "You're doing it today," Gajeel repeated. "Come on."

He dragged her back towards the edge of the cliff, where children were already falling a soaring with giggles, squeals, and cries. Levy looked like she was going to be sick.

"Close your eyes," Gajeel insisted. "We'll do it on three."

"But-"

"No buts." Levy nodded, growing a full shade whiter. "One." She was shaking. "Two." Eyes closed. He gripped her hand. "Three."

They jumped.

* * *

Request: Gajevy, leap.


	8. Nerves

The day Wendy had informed them, in that matter of a fact tone she got when discussing anything medical, Gajeel had gone through many emotions in the span of around five seconds.

Shock, of course, was the first one. Because he couldn't really believe it. Levy, was _pregnant_, too soon to tell with what, boy or girl. Either way, their family of two (plus cat) would soon be a family of _three_, (plus cat.) Everything was going to change drastically, all because of those simple words. And he couldn't quite believe it.

Happiness. He was having a _kid._ With Levy, the only person he'd ever want to raise a child with. Gajeel would be a father. He and Levy would have a son, or a daughter, teach them how to read, how to do magic. Their heritage, both mage and dragon. They'd have a child and be parents and watch them learn their first word and he'd _never_ just leave them, like his dad did to him. They'd raise their kid together, with a childhood that wouldn't breed distrust. They'd give their kid everything.

Then came the stereotypical nerves. He knew about mood swings and cravings and morning sickness, but there were more serious issues. Like what if something happened to the baby? There were so many birth complications that could happen, so many ways for the child to die before it was even born. Or as it was being born. What if something happened to _Levy?_ Because it happened, death by childbirth. It was by no means unheard of, or even uncommon. Or if something happened to Gajeel himself, and he never got to meet his son/daughter. Or if the kid got hurt _after_ they were born. What if she didn't want a kid? Or…

The _guild._ His nerves were suddenly replaced by an all-consuming panic. What if Levy got hit while she was pregnant by a wayward table? Or if Natsu somehow managed to break the baby, as he had a scary sort of talent for breaking things. And Levy could be hurt on a mission, and the baby could be killed. Or Levy could be killed, and the kid with her. And even once the child was born, the guild was no place for a baby. There were hazards everywhere, things that could kill an infant or toddler if one wasn't careful. They'd have to be on constant alert. The smallest slip up could end up in fatality…

"Gajeel!" He felt Levy's slim arms wrap around him. She seemed to be crying and laughing. He could feel both his shirt getting wet and her giggles against his chest. He returned the hug, but his mind was occupied on safety measures.

As they walked home together, Gajeel stopped and bent down, looking Levy straight in the eye. "You," he said, "are not stepping foot in the guild until the kid is five or so."

She blinked up at him once, before cracking a smile. "You are ridiculous," she said, and dissolved into hopeless giggles.

* * *

Request: Gajevy, first pregnancy


	9. Pixie

"Pixie."

She looked down to see a man a full two inches taller than she, which, at their height, was a lot, staring up at where she was perched cross-legged in the smack-dab center of a book. She knew it would probably be best to ignore him.

"What?"

Then again, she had never done the smart thing when it came to these kinds of situations.

"You're in the way."

She didn't particularly _dislike_ brownies with their strange habit of picking up springs and paperclips and other shiny things, but he was the one in the way. The library was _her_ realm. They weren't called fairy tales for nothing. She slowly, tauntingly, stretched out over the book. Despite the fact that she was partially in the way of whatever he was building this time, she wasn't moving.

"Pixie."

"_Levy._ And I'm a fairy."

"Short-stuff."

"_What?"_

He was really irritating her. She would have thrown him out on his ear long ago, except she couldn't. Her magic was mainly book related, smoothing wrinkled papers, fixing faded words, and bookworm-be-gone spells were more her domain. She would only be able to send him flying if he decided to start snacking on mystery novels and grow a few extra sets of legs.

"Can you just move the book over a few inches?"

"You're not going to leave me alone," she sighed. "Are you?"

"Nope."

Levy stood up with a groan, stepped gracefully off her perch and began shoving against the papers. She just wanted to finish this book. It was a good one, with a nice plot twist and rhythm to it that lulled you into the story, rhythm that _he_ was interrupting.

"Short-stuff."

"What, Gajeel? _What?_" Every day. Every day the damn brownie would bother her until she wanted to pull her hair out in fistfuls or tear up her beloved books from pure stress. She was sick of it.

"You ca- crap. Duck!"

He lunged at her, pushing her down and behind her pile of literature and reading materials. His hand was over her mouth and she debated biting him when the door creaked opened moments later. Footsteps like thunder.

A human.

Before she had been ready to hit Gajeel but now she was cowering against him, and he rubbed her back where a long scar indicated where one wing used to be, in slow, calm circles until the man left again. It hadn't been that long since she had gotten it. Maybe two months or three. Time was hard when you were unconscious. And she had been for a while after the incident. She was fine now.

It took her a few moments still to brush off her momentary panic. There would be no difference if a big person pulled off her other wing, she told herself, squeezing out from where Gajeel was squashing her. She couldn't fly lopsidedly anyways.

"You OK?"

She flashed him a smile that she was only starting to feel. She'd be fine. "Of course!"

Gajeel just shook his head and ruffled her own mop. "Keep it up, Shorty. No one's catchin' you again on my watch."


	10. Above and Below 1

She had snuck down here, again, knowing full well she wasn't supposed to and just how much trouble she'd be in if caught. Lucy, the best case scenario, wouldn't mind. She'd get off with a teasing at worst. But her mother, on the other hand, would ground her for all eternity. Literally. All eternity. Empires would fall and Levy would still be stuck in a rather limited, but well cared for, garden.

At first it had just been one garden enthusiast to another. Gajeel, despite being the lord of the underworld, had a love of flowers and botany. His orchards were breathtaking.

He was rather soar about accepting help, but Levy wasn't the goddess of flowers for nothing. Growing a garden in the underworld was a challenge, the likes of which she'd never seen before. If Levy couldn't do it, nobody could. She'd have Gajeel waist deep in daisies and snapdragons before he knew it.

Currently, they were working on the ever difficult sunflower. Anything but temperamental above ground, they were posing a significant problem in the underworld. With the lack of sun and all that. Levy would not admit defeat. She _adored_ sunflowers. However, they both knew that wasn't the real reason she was there.

"Hey, Lily, boy." Levy stopped to scratch the three headed cat behind the ears. All six of them. Gajeel had never been a dog person, but Lily did the job well enough. He was terrible fierce when he wished to be, but the sight of Levy alone was enough to make him purr hard enough to shake the ground.

She strolled past the masses of souls, wavin few familiar monsters, and taking the way behind the looming palace. The path was familiar to her, she had traveled it so many times. Stepping gracefully around a femur, gods know where it had come from, she grinned at the sight of dark hair and a back tanned, not from the sun, but from the fires on punishment and the coppery glow that the underworld was constantly basked in.

"Gajeel!" She waved when he turned around, his face pink from effort. Or maybe something else. Levy could feel her own neck heating up at the sight of him topless.

"How's that flowerbed doing?" she asked.

"Looking good," he said, waving her over. She kicked off her delicate sandles, curling her toes in the carefully weeded and watered grass, leaning over his shoulder. Both of them turned a bit redder.

"And the sun flowers?" Their shoulders brushed, skin on hot skin, and she could swear she could hear her heart in her ears. She hoped he couldn't make out the thumping.

"We lost a few of the smaller ones," Gajeel reported. He drove his shovel into the ground and leaned on it, casually, as if they both weren't thinking the same thing. As if they both weren't blushing and trying not to flirt.

It was painfully obvious.

They'd play this dangerous game a little longer yet, while they still could. While she was still free to travel from the surface to beneath it, they'd pretend she was only here for the garden. And once they mastered sunflowers, they'd just move to something else.

While they still could.

* * *

Request: gajevy Hades and Perspephone AU.

1/3


	11. Above and Below 2

A small rustle alerted her to his presence, and Levy was stunned yet again just how quiet he could be when he felt like it, despite his bulk. (All muscle, he'd remind her.) But then again, Gajeel was the ruler of darkness, and it was night.

"Heya, Lev." He looked almost sheepish, offering her his hand. They both knew that they weren't supposed to be seeing each other. Her mother had had a fit the time they were caught, and it was walking on eggshells for Levy to so much as open the window anytime after sunset. They had managed it though, Levy waiting under a tree in her mother's own garden. She'd never been in so much trouble.

She took his hand, his fingers dwarfing hers as they intertwined. The garden was still at night, darkness dulling the colors of all but the moon blossoms, glowing pearly white on their vines.

"Hi." They didn't blush any more when they held hands, even if kissing still made her neck go hot and pink. His ears would go scarlet when they hugged. "I'm grounded." She paused for a second. "No pun intended."

"I know." They both sighed, and they stayed like that for a few minutes, watching the sky while the goddess of agriculture slept inside. If he had been anyone else, her mother would have been fine with him. Girls grew up. She knew that.

But Gajeel was the king of the underworld, and, thus, forbidden.

Anybody else and it would have been allowed, no question asked. The only ones who questioned the gods were the gods themselves. But if it had been anyone else, she might not have fallen.

"Should we go?" he asked. Levy nodded, moving a little closer to him. Gajeel wrapped his arm around her shoulders, drawing her in tight before the shadows around them seemed to thicken. The darkness became a blackness, swirling around them before swallowing them up, depositing them in a gazebo in their underworld garden, the branches of a pomegranate tree just brushing the walls. Gajeel had set up a table, nectar and whine and water in cups and ambrosia and fresh bread on plates, a basket filled with fruits, upper world grown.

"You're a sweetheart," Levy cooed.

He blushed like the sweetheart he was, before ushering her to the table, pulling out the chair for her like a gentleman. He was anything but a gentleman, usually, and his teasings were the godly equivalent of pulling her pigtails, but he had those off quirks. He took his own seat, rather regally, across from her, and they proceeded to hold hands and giggle as they sipped at their drinks and made small talk, interrupting the conversation with the occasional kiss.

And that was when the sky began to shake.

"Oh no," she said, swallowing nervously, looking up at the earth and iron ceiling. Gajeel stood up, standing in front of her her as boulders fell from the ceiling. Her eyes widened as one came dangerously close, and, as if on cue, she and Gajeel ran.

The earth was her mother's domain, and the earth was the sky in the underworld, so the earthquakes seemed like a rain of pebbles and stones. Gajeel shielded her the best he could, and they ducked into the pomegranate orchard just as Levy's mother materialized, twenty feet tall and furious.

"You," she boomed, pointing her finger at Gajeel and Levy. "You must get over this silly infatuation!"

Is that what she thought it was? Levy felt herself burning with shame, then embarrassment, then anger. "It's not-"

"He will leave you!" Levy's mother roared. "And you will leave him! You will lose interest! I will NOT have you loosing your virginity over the GOD OF DARKNESS!" Her volume rose, and Gajeel had cupped his hands over his ears.

"No commitment?" Levy asked, her voice shaking. "Is that what you think?"

"Of course!" Her mother's face was dark. She didn't believe this was real. No commitment.

Levy would show her commitment.

Turning around, Levy pulled a pomegranate from the tree. Gajeel's eyes widened. Levy's mother opened her mouth, but she held up a hand to stop her.

"Commitment." Levy's voice was quiet, the anger ridiculously clear in every syllable. Her mother got loud. Levy got quiet. "You know the rules about food of the underworld," Levy said pointedly. "Don't you?"

"Levy," Gajeel said quietly. "Levy, don't do this to yourself. There's got to be another way." She ignored him.

"Just one fruit," she continued, "and I'm stuck here forever. Well," she polished the pomegranate on her gown until it gleamed. "Bottoms up."

The crunch was deafening, and Levy took another bite, and another, and another, until the fruit was gone halfway. The juice ran down her face, staining her lips and her fingers red. She could feel the horrified stares at her back. But Gajeel had been wrong.

There was no other way.

Levy frowned, letting the half eaten pomegranate fall to the ground, turning away from her mother and towards Gajeel. "I'll be staying with you now, at least half of the time." Looking at the fruit on the floor, she kicked it away. Her toes were red now too, with the sweet fruit juice.

"And I'll visit you, mum," Levy said, eyes softening. "Half the year here, half the year there."

Her mother stood shocked, her size already diminishing. She shimmered, fizzled, and then disappeared. Levy sniffed once, rubbing her wrist over her eyes. She wouldn't be able to see the sun for six months. She wouldn't be able to see her mother. "Let's go," she told Gajeel.

He took her hand, and they did.


	12. Above and Below 3

The flowers were every color you could imagine, a thousand shades of pinks and golds and purples, whites blushing red on the tips, but one stood out in the garden. Levy brushed petals absent-mindedly out of her blue curls, hiking up her robes as she waded through the blooms. With every step, flowers grew where her foot had fallen previously.

She ducked under a willow, wading through the greenery over to an arbor thick with red roses. A single black flower spouted with the red, mid thigh when Levy was standing, so she sat down until its petals brushed her nose, thanking Lucy, goddess of love, as she went.

Levy breathed on the flower, plucked a petal, and tore it in half. The perfume made her head spin and lighten, made her dizzy and excited all at once.

because she knew what was going to come next.

Levy placed the torn petal on her tongue, the sharp taste bringing a smile to her face as an image fizzled to life before her. Life sized and hiding a grin behind a frown, Gajeel stood in front of her, almost real, arms crossed in all his underworld glory.

Despite the terrifying name, the god of death was a softie.

"How's the garden going?" Levy asked, patting the ground next to her. The image sat down, though the grass didn't bend beneath him. She was sure he was stirring dust on his end.

"The death thing makes fertilizing a little difficult," he said nonchalantly. "You know the drill. But the roses are coming in nicely." He glanced away, and the projection's face turned red. "Could use a bit of help," he grumbled. Levy smiled.

"Summer's so long," he said after a while, the projection inching it's and towards hers. It passed through her fingers, less than a breeze, and she swallowed back tears.

"We got through spring already." She sighed, rolling her shoulders back and looking up at the sky. It was a pretty shade of blue, but she longed for the day it turned cloudy a grey. She wanted to go home. "Halfway there."

"It's been three months." Gajeel looked ready to punch something, and she hoped it wasn't anything nice. He could be in the palace for all she knew.. "I hate this… waiting thing."

Levy knew. She counted the days, crossing them off as they passed. She knew exactly how long it had been since they had last held hands. Or kissed. "Just a couple more weeks," she said, with a cheerfulness she didn't feel. "And it's nice to see my mother now and then."

"For six months?" Gajeel frowned. "Levy, you barely talk to your mother."

"A deal is a deal." And she had promised. "But it's a little much, isn't it." She shook her head, brushing her bangs out of her face. "I think I can sneak out to the gate tonight." She smiled. "How's that sound?"

He nodded. "Good." They sat in silence. Six month.

"I miss you, Levy mumbled, blinking back tears. He moved to brush them away, but his fingers passed through her cheeks. They rolled down her face unhindered.

"Me too, Levy." Gajeel swallowed, glancing away. "Me too."

* * *

3/3


	13. Pawns

There was a gun in his hotel room. He knew that because it was his, in perfect condition, a beauty from Juvia.

Gajeel was sure there were countless other weapons in the hotel itself, and even as he adjusted his tie he found himself guessing the exact number. There were Fairies and Phantoms both, scattered around the floors in seemingly random positions, but Gajeel knew better. The entire place was just a fatal game of chess with the young heiress Heartifillia girl as the king. The rest of them were essentially pawns. Some may masquerade as knight or bishops or queens, but they were all equally expendable, disposable when it came down to it.

Gajeel stood up, tied his hair back in a ponytail, slipped a pair of throwing knives up his sleeve, and a gun in its hidden holder under his jacket. And then he left.

As he walked down the stairs to where a luxurious ball filled with the wealthy, both legal and not quite, a blue haired woman latched onto his arm, curls and curves and a pristine smile. The perfect date, if you didn't know of the smaller weapons hidden on her person.

"Is Gajeel going to catch his fairy girl tonight?" The woman grinned coyly and Gajeel scowled. Perhaps Juvia wasn't the ideal date, too damn nosy for her own good, but Phantom only had so many women to partner with. Most of them he'd kill in moments. Juvia might be a bit odd, and too good at prying for her own good, but she had class and had saved Gajeel's neck more times than he could count. On certain days, she was the only thing keeping him from leaving the hell they called their little corner of the underworld all together.

"The little heiress won't know what hit her."

Juvia smiled wryly, squeezing his arm. "Gajeel is too soft to take her. But he knows that's not what Juvia meant."

The doors opened, sending them diving into a whirl of colorful dresses against black suits, sprinkled with the twinkle of diamonds, gold, and silver around necks. It would have been disorienting him, had he not attended a thousand parties like it in the past months.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Gajeel replied stiffly, but Juvia just laughed. His eyes sought out his target, blond curls and low cut dress and a tense smile that bubbled and burst into a laugh when the bright haired fairy boy, Natsu, elbowed her with a cocky grin. He whispered something into her ear, and she snorted, giggles spreading to the girl standing a shoulder away and below her, blue hair twisted up classily.

"And there she is," Juvia whispered. He could feel his face heating up, but here was no hiding anything from Juvia. "Gajeel should go flirt. It is a party, after all."

"It's a mission," Gajeel corrected. "Not a-"

"Go." Juvia shoved him, sending him stumbling. It was a feat for anyone, especially at her size. "Gajeel should have fun. Nothing will happen tonight, anyways." With an all-knowing look, Juvia turned away with the swish of her elegant skirts and click of her heels. "Gajeel could have ended this weeks ago."

He hated to admit it, but Juvia was right. He could already see the absence of Phantom's strategically placed sniper, undeniably Fairy interference. The drugged punch had been replaced by the planted waiter, also a Fairy. It didn't really matter though. This situation had played out a thousand times before. He could end it now, anyways. He was sure they were all bored of it.

He walked towards the heiress.

Juvia had gone to flirt with her Fairy boy, and the two girls and boy were watching him, waiting for him to come over. They were _waiting._ This was getting old, if the small one was tapping her watch impatiently, as if asking why he was late. Still, he didn't want it to end, this awful game of chess, seesaw, balancing act of procrastination and duty and danger and guilt.

"So," the short woman said. Levy, he had learnt in the first month, when he had asked her to dance after a quiet fistfight in the hallway. With a Phantom. Gajeel against a Phantom. What were these people doing to him?

"Did we miss anything?" she asked. Asked him. The one sent to kidnap them.

"Wouldn't tell you even if ya did," Gajeel grunted, taking a drink from Natsu. It was a lie. He sniffed it tentatively, before deeming it clean. He threw it back. "But you're safe for another night, Miss Heartifillia."

She snorted, most un-properlyly. "Lucy," she insisted. "We're old friends by now."

He really didn't want to kidnap her, he admitted to himself, as he bickered with Levy, who had two guns tucked under the folds of her dress and a dagger pinning her hair up. She cocked her hips at him, and he licked his lips before she burst into laughter. Lucy and Levy and Natsu were playing pretend as much as he was, and they all knew it. He was not kidnapper of a girl who hated her money more than Juvia hated the rain. They were no livers of the highlife, where the lying was covered up with makeup and ribbons and dresses. It was a poisoness place, balancing propriety and everything wrong.

At least his life was honest in its trickery.

Gajeel turned to watch Juvia, who was smiling at the black haired Fairy boy, Gray. He leaned down, kissed her knuckles like she was a lady and he was a gentleman and it wasn't all an act. She was so happy. It wouldn't last once the job was done, once the Fairies were behind them. Gajeel frowned.

Levy put her hand on his arm. It was surprisingly strong for someone so small. "You know," she said, "we're always opened to new members."

Gajeel cracked a dark smile. "Phantoms?"

She stared up at him, with dark eyes through dark lashes. Serious. She wasn't joking. "If they prove themselves."

He could kidnap the heiress at any time. But instead he waited.

...

He wasn't sure what was different this time. Perhaps he had picked off one grunt too few. Perhaps Jose had lost patience. Perhaps he had been caught.

It didn't matter.

He'd never know, because the next marksmen had two targets on sight, and one of them was himself. Jose did that sometimes, to people who were too slow. When the first shot went off, so had a hundred, and those who weren't crouched down low were screaming, running around, pushing for the door to get out, out, OUT. On instinct, he had lunged for the girls, knocking Levy out of the way as Natsu pulled Lucy behind him and pushed her towards the cleverly concealed side door.

Anther bullet, and this one hit its target.

"Arg!"

"Gajeel!"

Levy struggled out from under him, and Gajeel groaned. It had hit him in the side, and it burned like a thousand matches and he _couldn't move._

"Run," he grunted. "Y'got princess over there."

Tears streamed down her face. She was crying for him. He never thought he'd see the day when someone shed tears for his sorry ass. He tried to smile at her. He wasn't sure if he managed.

"Erza! Laxus!" Levy called out. She wasn't moving, but he could hear footsteps approaching, someone pulling him up and prompting him to stumble, walk, run. Her words and his world spun in and out of focus. He swore he saw Juvia and her boyfriend and the heiress and hers, and the roof of a car. There was only her voice saying that he'd be fine, he'd be fine, pressure on the wound, and a burning pain.

And then it was dark.

* * *

Request: Gajevy, mafia AU


	14. Makeup

"She's too young to go on a date."

Levy looked up at Gajeel from where she flipped through an ancient tomb, full of old languages and mysteries. Just a bit of light reading. She pushed her hair out of her face with her reading glasses, clucking her tongue at him He scowled.

"Xandra is fifteen," Levy said. It was the voice of someone who had argued their case a thousand times before, and didn't really think they'd be heard. She shook her curls behind her shoulders, standing up and placing the book aside with a thud. She put her hand on Gajeel's tense arm. "You're lucky it wasn't sooner. And Drake is a sweetheart," she reasoned. "He adores Xandra. He wouldn't hurt her."

He looked, of course, unsatisfied, forehead creased with worry for the safest things their daughter had ever done. She pushed at the wrinkles gently. "But-"

The sound of footsteps taking stairs two at a time cut him off midway. Xandra bounded into the living room, practically glowing with excitement and perhaps a few, hidden nerves. She twirled around, her skirt fairing prettily around her legs. Unlike her mother, Xandra preferred a loose braid, but she often wore a headband with it like today.

"How do I look?" she asked.

Gajeel opened his mouth to say something, perhaps grunt to put on a longer skirt or looser top or to stay home, but Levy stopped him

"You look great."

Xandra smiled prettily, her usual confidence rejuvenated. She tugged on her scarf, tossing her braid with a flick of her head. She bit her lip with barely contained excitement. The knock at the door sent her running, but not before she pecked her father on the cheek and threw her arms around her mother for a quick hug.

"Good luck!" Levy called, as she ran towards the door. "And have fun!"

"Be back by eight thirty!" Gajeel called, as Xandra opened the door to reveal Drake, holding a bouquet of sunflowers, Xandra's favorite. The little charmer. Gajeel scowled.

"Ten," Levy corrected with a soft smile. Drake waved happily, before ducking out of Gajeel's line of sight with a laughing Xandra calling goodbye over her shoulder.

The silence was deafening. Levy closed the door.

"Is…" Gajeel swallowed. "Is she wearing _makeup_?"

Levy laughed out loud, standing on tiptoes to give him a quick kiss. "C'mon," she said. "Emma wants to watch a movie."

"But-"

"No." Levy grinned. "You can't follow them."

He followed her instead, grumbling all the while. Levy smiled to herself. Gajeel would never change.

* * *

Request: Overprotective daddy Gajeel.


	15. Day 1: Cooking

Gajeel was startled to full consciousness by the sound of a smoke alarm. Which wasn't anything new. He covered his head in his pillow in effort to muffle the obnoxious beeping noise. It wasn't working.

Sure, he had panicked the first time around a few hours ago. And even a bit during the second false alarm. But by the third time in one night from _one_ apartment, well, Gajeel was done. And sure, he had been warned by the previous owner that the next door neighbor was a bit troublesome. But this was ridiculous. What were they doing in there? Pyrotechnics?

After the fourth alarm, and Gajeel could only assume the fire department was aware of this hazardous person because nobody had been called. While Gajeel could care less about the safety of the neighbor one door over he had a class the next day. And it was late. It was was time to take matters into his own hands.

The alarm went off for a fifth time and Gajeel cursed loudly. This mystery neighbor could blow themselves up for all he cared, but did they _have_ to do it at two in the morning? He was beat.

He stood up with a groan, pulling on a discarded T-shirt he had dropped on his floor hours earlier when he had tried to go to bed. It might have been inside out. It was probably black. Gajeel couldn't have told you. He didn't bother with his shoes and simply stomped out of his apartment in his bare-footed-bed-headed glory.

He knocked on the door, 502, McGarden written in textbook-perfect handwriting. It wasn't the writing of somebody who blew up things on a regular basis. But then again you never knew.

There was the sound of bare feet rushing to the door and the hinges creaked as the door opened and he was left facing…

Nothing. Or rather, nothing at his eye level. He had to look down to see the young woman standing in front of him, ears flushed with embarrassment. He had seen her before, carrying groceries or textbooks and she always waved a cheerful hello. He had helped her gather the contents of her dropped purse once.

A frying pan was clutched in her hand, caked in something unidentifiable. It smelled like smoke. Her hair was piled high on her head in a messy bun, fastened with a pencil. She looked near tears.

"Yes?" She sounded cautious but when she saw who it was she relaxed. "You're the new neighbor. I'm Levy. You're Gajeel aren't you? Lucy said that- oh." She had the grace to look sheepish, squirming in her bunny slippers. "I woke you up, didn't I?"

But Gajeel ignored her, eyes glued to the pan in clenched in her fingers. Something black and incredibly _burnt_ covered the surface. Levy noticed where his eyes were landing and hid the pan behind her back. Her face gained an additional flush of embarrassment. "What…" he trailed off in horror.

"What?" Levy prompted.

"What _is_ that?" He pointed at her pan.

"I was–" She thought for a moment. "Making eggs?"

"Making eggs?" He sounded appalled. He was appalled. "Those are _eggs?_" He thought for a moment. Eggs were edible, and what she was holding was certainly not. "Were eggs," he clarified.

"Yes?" He glanced around her to see into her kitchen, where two egg cartons, a dozen and a half brown eggs to each, were opened, shells littering the counter, table top, and floor. She shifted, blocking his view of the kitchen, leading Gajeel to look at her. And, now that he looked, some shells were caught in Levy's blue curls as well. Some pepper dusted her nose.

Levy sneezed.

"This?" Gajeel asked, "This is what has set off the smoke alarm _five times?"_ He paused, staring mutely into her apartment. "Tonight?"

"Umm…" If she had looked sheepish before, now she looked like she was about to combust. "Yes?"

"For heaven's sake," Gajeel grumbled. He held out his hand. Levy looked up, confused. Gajeel sighed. "Give me the pan."

Her expression called for a camera. "Excuse me?" She managed to sound confused, tired, hungry, and insulted at the same time.

"Give me the pan. I'll make you a damn omelet." She made that silly face again. Her nose scrunched up and lips pouting and eyebrows not sure what to do. It made him want to kiss her for some reason. He pushed the thought from his mind. "I'm up, I'm hungry, and the smoke alarm is giving me a headache."

"Oh." She held the door opened, rubbing one pajama clad leg against the other. Sheepish once more, sprinkled with a bit of bewilderment. "Sorry? And thanks."

He shrugged gruffly. "Quicker than waiting for you to get take out."

She laughed, light and airy with an unexpected snort at the end. And as they ate in amongst the discarded eggshells, Gajeel wondered if perhaps they could make a habit of this.

But without the smoke alarms, of course.

* * *

Prompt 1: Cooking


	16. Day 2: Nursing

Gajeel was fully capable of taking care of himself. In Phantom, there had been nobody to wrap his bandages for him. There was no tick for a tack, I'll do your laundry if you cook dinner for me. If you couldn't do it nobody was gong to do it for you. So Gajeel had learnt to do it all himself.

So, yes, he was quite good at bandages, he had told Jet and Droy mere minutes before he and Levy had set off on their first mission without her best friends and chaperones. And he would have asked why, except that they were late and Levy was itching to go. She was no fun when she was impatient and the less than subtle bouncing hinted that she was going to start snapping fairly soon.

So he hadn't asked. The only thing the question would prompt was a lecture.

And it became apparent soon enough. Because as skilled at Gajeel was with bandages, Levy was absolute crap. And reckless to top it all off.

"That," Gajeel said, "was entirely unnecessary."

Levy sat propped up on a rock, her leg outstretched. The ground at their feet was littered with mangled bandages, her attempt to wrap the wound herself. And even that was only after Gajeel had nagged her about it, she had fallen down twice, and a long drawn out hissy fit that was half denial and half stubbornness. How Jet and Droy managed her was beyond his reckoning.

Reckless. She had already taken out goon A, with his magic that fooled the senses and based itself on trickery, when she decided that Gajeel wasn't moving fast enough. And then she had taken a hit.

For _him._

"It's just a scratch," Levy insisted. Her cheeks, pale from pain, filled with air as she huffed. She was annoyed. Gajeel scoffed. So was he.

"And I'm just a brat." He tugged gently on the skin on either side wound to get the cleaning solution all the way in. Levy cursed something awful enough to make a sailor blush. And people said Gajeel had a dirty mouth. They had _no_ idea.

"You _are_ a brat," Levy huffed. "And you're making a mountain out of a molehill."

Gajeel pressed on the said molehill to slow down the bleeding. Levy let out another round of dragon worthy curses and blinked away tears of pain. She was an awful patient in the sense that she lacked any patience at all. Her regard for herself was alarmingly sparse. Levy squirmed and muttered and wouldn't tell him where it hurt or when it hurt or if it hurt at all and had proceeded to try walking to the train station with the gash wrapped in nothing more than her dirty cloth headband. And rather poorly tied, might he add.

Naturally, Gajeel hadn't allowed that. And he'd carry her to the station himself, draped over his shoulder or on his back, before letting her walk on that leg. How Jet and Droy managed to bring her home in one piece was beyond him.

"Completely unnecessary," Gajeel insisted. Levy scowled as Gajeel gave her bandages a final tightening. "I would have been fine. That mage was a pushover."

"Guess you didn't need me, then." Oh. That was what it was about. She was sulking. He was terrible with this emotional crap. That was her job.

He couldn't believe felt like he didn't need her. Of course Gajeel needed her. It had been a simple mission this time. But Gajeel probably would have killed himself ten times over again without her there to watch his back.

"Course I needed you," Gajeel grumbled. "You took out that other guy, the one with the flashy magic."

"Oh." Levy blushed, her ears going red. A silly little smile bloomed on her lips. He thought it was cute. He coughed to rid himself of the urge to kiss it off her mouth. "Ok."

"Ok." He coughed again, ruffling her hair up so that it stuck out even more so than it normally did. "Now stop squirming, will you?"

She tried. She really did. But as bad as Levy was at nursing, and he had had a cold once so he would know, she was an even worse patient. Even when she was trying to behave.

He wouldn't have her any other way.

* * *

Prompt 2: Nursing


	17. Day 3: Lipstick

"I don't like how it feels," Levy said doubtfully. She ran her tongue over her lips for what must have been the umpteenth time. Lucy clucked her tongue disapprovingly, leaning forward to apply yet another layer of lipstick to Levy's face. "It'll just rub right off," Levy insisted, watching Lucy apply a layer to her own lips and twist her blond hair elegantly off her neck and into a fancy up-do that looked effortless and complicated at the same time. And, if Levy knew her friend, it would be practical as well, unlikely to fall from her head if there was a fight.

And there was _always_ a fight. It was Fairy Tail.

But this, lipstick, seemed rather impractical. And Lucy, as frivolous as she seemed, was always, _always_ practical. She never wore heels higher than she could run in, even to parties. Wore boy shorts under or shorts but never anything lacy wen when on missions. Kept her bangs neat and out of her face.

"But you look hot," Lucy insisted. She reapplied her own and smiled becomingly, first in the mirror, then at Levy. She gave a wink before deeming both herself and best friend acceptable. "Natsu loves it."

"Why?" Levy asked. She had to consciously stop herself from touching the bright red covering her lips. She satisfied herself with making a face. "It feels all waxy. And it'll get all over my food."

"Aww, c'mon Lev." Lucy threw her arm around Levy's shoulders, grinning in a distinctly Natsu-like fashion. The two were more alike then it seemed at first glance, with Natsu and his unruly locks and Lucy's perfectly brushed hair and posture of an aristocrat. She talked with her hands, big, dramatic motions. Distinctly unlady-like. "It's just one night. Please?" She pouted, the red on her lips only accentuating it. "Please?"

Levy sighed. She couldn't say no to Lucy.

And she suffered through it, all through the long walk to the guild with the bubbling blond at Levy's side. She watched Lucy meet Natsu and watched them waltz off, hand in hand, and watched for Gajeel's large form in front of the guild gates. She was early. He'd be there any minute.

When Gajeel arrived and met Levy at the guild door and took her arm, always the reluctant gentleman, Levy had to stop herself yet again from wiping the makeup of her mouth. She was all for sparkling eye shadow, winged eyeliner, and blush. But her lips felt weird when she smiled.

Even if Gajeel couldn't keep his eyes off of them.

He lipped his own lips unconsciously and Levy felt a wicked grin spread across her face. She pressed herself right against his side flirtatiously, squeezing his arm. She could see Gajeel's ears go scarlet as her mouth. Levy knew _exactly_ what he was thinking.

"Like what you see?" she asked. Her smile was positively cheeky.

He blushed yet again, the dear, even as his grin widened. She could see the dragonesque canines in the leftover light from the day. It was hard to pin him as confident or shy. She could never quite guess how he'd react. Not that she minded.

"Heartifillia put it on you?"

Levy was touched that he knew her so well as to notice her makeup tendencies. Gajeel paid attention more than he'd like her to think.

Even so, she made a face and Lucy's expense. "Feels weird," Levy admitted, sticking out her tongue. "All waxy." Gajeel snorted, reaching out a hand to mess with her hair. She slapped it away.

"No," Levy scolded. "We're going to a party." He had the grace to look sheepish, tugging at his tie as if he suddenly remembered he was wearing it. It was the one that Levy chose out last week, something that made her preen with silent delight.

Gajeel leaned forward; close enough for Levy to touch the metal on his face. The piercings glinted in the sparse light of just after sunset. Levy resisted the urge to touch them.

She felt his hand on the small of her back, dropping down to her waist. There was no purchase on the smooth bodice of her dress so Gajeel leaned forward, pressed his lips against Levy's, and kissed her.

It was not their best kiss. Their lips stuck together from the makeup and with their hair pulled up and back and clothing wrinkle free all of Levy's favorite spots to put her hands were unavailable.

Still, he looked particularly handsome in his steel-grey dress shirt and a tie that matched her dress. The green one with the full skirt Cana had found.

Gajeel backed off and made a face, whipping what lipstick got on his face off with the back of his hand.

"Waxy," he agreed, wiping the red off of her lips as well with his thumb before leaning forward to kiss her again.

* * *

Prompt 3: Lipstick


	18. Day 4: Daydreams

Levy lay curled up on Gajeel's lap, his chin tucked neatly over his shoulder as they flipped through a beautifully illustrated book about dragons. She was warm, in a warm sweater and quilt and by the roaring fireplace with two warm arms wrapped around her shoulders and legs tangled up with hers. She was a cuddle hog, obviously, but it had never taken much to convince Gajeel to wrap up in the quilt along with her and one of Juvia's many knit presents.

There was nothing like warmth. Levy cared little what type, be it sunlight or fire or blankets or Gajeel's arms around her.

Gajeel was turning the pages of the book now and Levy watched his strong fingers on the delicate paper. Such beautiful fingers. Such a beautiful book. He flipped the pages carefully, like he was afraid to tear it. Like it was something worth caring about.

Soon, Levy stopped watching the pages. Instead of letters she studied the ceases in his knuckle, the scars littering his hands. She way he turned the page. The breath of the page turning and his breath in her ear. The feel of the hard cover on her knees and his heart on her back…

Levy didn't notice when her mind began to wander and her eyes begin to droop. But Gajeel did. And she noticed when he poked her in the sides, tickling her awake with a squeak.

She stifled a yawn, pulling the quilt tighter around her shoulders and wiggling closer to Gajeel. He set the book aside and brushed his fingers through her hair, braiding little strands absent mindedly. She thought it adorable that he could braid. He had learnt it for Wendy.

"What are yah thinkin'bout?" Gajeel asked, lips pressed against her hair. The she could feel the rumbling in his chest through her back and his shirt. Levy smiled. It felt nice, in a funny sort of way.

"Say it again," she mumbled into the quilt. He snorted, tweaking her hair playfully.

"So?" he asked. "What _are_ you thinkin' about?"

Levy sighed happily. She was so _warm._

"Your fingers," she said out loud. He laughed, another nice feeling.

"Yah?" he asked. She could hear the smile in his voice. "What about them?"

She felt around for them, grabbing Gajeel's hand and bringing it before her. "They're so long." She traced them. "And strong. And pretty."

He grabbed her hand, brought it up to his face and kissed it. He was such a sap when he thought she wasn't fully conscious. But she was awake.

Just daydreaming.

* * *

Prompt 4: Daydreams


	19. Day 5: Metalicana

For a dragon, he was an absolute _ass._

That was Levy's first impression of her future father in law, if a dragon could be considered a father in law. And still, years later with many more interactions tucked beneath her belt, she would say it was a fairly accurate one. Because when Metalicana saw her, standing there, practically shaking with nerves, the first thing he did was throw back his metal plated head and _laugh_.

It was the sound of iron bells, deep and loud, and Levy felt that she had to prove something. She was more than something to be laughed at. This dragon did not deserve her fear. So she crossed her arms, stuck up her nose, and scoffed.

"I thought you'd be bigger."

She had not, but he didn't need to know that.

He laughed again. And this time Gajeel joined him, clapping his hand across Levy's shoulders. Because _that_ was what she said to his father who _easily_ towered over the guild? And when Levy didn't even come up to Gajeel's shoulder. He expected nothing less.

"I like you, little one." Metalicana's voice was a roar and the groan of metal bending. Horrible and beautiful all at once. "You've got spunk. And a mouth."

Little one. She normally disliked any sort of comment on her height. But Levy decided the nickname was acceptable. Everybody was little to a dragon.

"As if you had a say, Pops!" Gajeel shouted. He didn't see the tail that whipped around and sent him tumbling, harmlessly, down the hill they had met the dragon on. But Levy did. And she snorted despite herself.

Metalicana's grin was nothing but sharp teeth and jagged edges but it somehow made Levy relax. The satisfaction was evident on his plated face despite the inhuman element that made emotions so much harder to read. "And now she smiles," the old dragon crowed. He winked down at her. "Feel free to whack him whenever you'd like."

"She doesn't need your permission for that either," Gajeel grumbled, climbing up to stand next to Levy once more. He was fine, nothing bruised but his pride and perhaps the stoic mask he wore. She could tell he was brimming with happiness in a Gajeel sort of way.

"Don't know how you managed to grab such a good one." Metalicana lowered his head so that he and Levy were eye level. He breathed a puff of metal-scented breath in her face. Levy wrinkled her nose. "You're sure you're here of your own free will?"

Levy grinned puckishly. "Yup!" She nudged Gajeel in the ribs with her elbow. "He only tied me to a tree once. But I'm over it."

Gajeel scowled. "We don't talk about that."

The dragon seemed unsure whether or not they were joking. Levy gave no hint in her face. Gajeel's scowls were indistinguishable from one another.

"As long as it was only once," Metalicana settled on. He gave Gajeel another harmless whack with his tail for good measure. "Still can't believe you're putting up with him."

Levy smiled. Ass or not, she and Metalicana were going to get along just fine.

* * *

Prompt 5: Metalicana


End file.
